


She Woke Up With Amnesia

by Carohas



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-17 16:06:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3535640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carohas/pseuds/Carohas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on The Vow.<br/>Bellamy and Clarke are both injured in a car crash, and when she wakes up she no longer remembers their life together, their marriage. Where can they go from here?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He woke with a start, his surroundings unfamiliar and his wife nowhere in sight. _Where am I?_  The hum of machines and rush of people outside were suddenly familiar to him.  _I’m at the hospital. Why?_  He struggled to remember what had happened, but the it all came back to him in a flash. 

It was cold and dark, yet somehow she’d convinced him to venture out into the night with her. She could sell sardines to a fisherman, that one. It was just one of the many reasons he loved her. She brought him out of his shell, got him to do things that he’d never even consider in other circumstances, but always turned out to be their favourite memories.  
He could remember the feeling of the hot air on his cold toes as he drove, wet, but laughing at a joke she’d made.  
That was it. That was the moment everything went haywire as he lost control of the car and they went skidding across the road, and into a tree. 

“Clarke!!” He had to find her, and he started pulling at the needles and wires they’d put inside him.  _I have to find her. Where is she, oh God, please don’t be in the morgue. Please._  
As he struggled to stand, a nurse came running in, “Mr. Blake! Mr. Blake! I have to ask to you lay back down.”  
“My wife,” he begged as he was gently pushed back to his bed, “please, where is she, I have to see her. Please, tell me, is she alright?” He felt his voice crack and tumble over the words as the fear that she could already be dead consumed him.   
“Honey, you lay down, and I’ll go fetch Dr. Griffin for you, okay? But you have to stay here. You’re not in very good shape yourself, you know.”  
“Okay.”  
“Good. I’ll be back in a minute.” She pat his arm and exited his room, leaving him to his memories. 

“Wow, hi, Clarke. Didn’t expect to see you here.”  
“It’s Dr. Griffin now.”  
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned as she looked him over, searching for injury as she looked up from her clipboard. He couldn’t get over how  _good_  she looked. It was like a fantasy he’d had in college. But better, aside from the pain he was in, because this was actually  _happening_.  
“What have you done to yourself?”  
“Football. I think I’ve broken my ankle.” He tried to move it in demonstration and winced as he felt it move too far.   
“We’ll have to get an x-ray to be sure, but I’d say your diagnosis is correct. Well done, Mr. Blake.”  
“It’s Bellamy.” He said as she met his eyes for the first time.   
“Bellamy. Well, I hope you haven’t got any plans this evening.”  
“Well actually, am I allowed to use my phone? There’s a couple girls I’ve got to call… Let them know I can’t make it.” He realised his joke didn’t have the desired effect as he watched her shoulders slump and her eyes roll. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. No, I don’t have any plans for tonight.”  
She looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a jutted hip, “it’s a Friday night, and  _you_  don’t have plans. You. Bellamy Blake.  _You_  don’t have plans.”  
“Why is that so surprising?”  
She scoffed, “you do remember sleeping with half my sorority house, don’t you?”  
“Only half?” He couldn’t stop himself. “I’m joking!” He hastened to add.   
“Maybe people do change.” Was all she said before she left the room, hanging up the clip board on her way out.   
“Wait! Can I-” But the door shut before he could finish his sentence and he was left gazing after her, determined to see her again before the night was through.

He was brought back from his daydream as the elder Dr. Griffin entered the room. “Abby!” He tried to sit himself up as he asked, “is she okay?” He gulped before he quietly added, “is she alive?”  
Her usually stern gaze softened and he almost broke down right then. Why would she look at him so pityingly if Clarke was still alive? “She’s alive, Bellamy.” He felt the breath he’d been holding leave his body, and he almost didn’t hear her next words. “She sustained brain injuries, and she’s in a coma. She hasn’t woken up yet.” He looked at his mother-in-law through tear-filled eyes, and found his expression reflected on her face.  
“But she will though, won’t she?”  
“I hope so. I certainly hope so.”  
“Can I see her?”  
“I’ll take you to her, but you have to be prepared, Bellamy. She might not wake up for days. She might not wake up at all.” He choked down a sob as he struggled to comprehend this information. “And I’ll have to reattach these IV lines you’ve hastily removed,” she said with a strangled laugh. 

She was right, of course. She had an annoying habit of that. She took him to Clarke’s room, up the elevator and down the long corridor that filled him with dread with every patient he passed. When he finally made it to Clarke, he could hardly bear to look at her. She had a tube running out the side of her mouth, tubes similar to his poking into her arms, a machine that beeped incessantly though he knew, that, at least, was a good sign. She was his Clarke, but she was bruised and battered beyond recognition.  _I did this to you._  
He felt Abby’s arm on his shoulder as she spoke, “I have patients to attend to, call a nurse when you’re ready to go back.”  
“Thank you,” his voice croaked in response, his eyes not leaving Clarke for one second.  
He struggled to his feet, using the stand his medication was hanging from to help him from the wheelchair. He stumbled to her bed and leaned against it. “Clarke.” He whispered. “Clarke.” He repeated her name as the tears fell down his face and he stroked her hair back. “Please come back to me.” He bent down to kiss her forehead, and stayed next to her until a nurse came in to remove him. “I’ll come back, Princess. Hold on, and come back to me.” He told her before being wheeled from the room. 

He was back there the next day, and after several arguments with various members of staff, he finally got his way and was allowed to stay with her. Having a mother-in-law who was a long-term staff member certainly helped in cases like this. Not that he’d ever experienced cases like this before. Thank God.

He fell asleep in his wheelchair, the one they refused to let him out of, with her hand in his, as he had the past three days.   
Then it moved, and his eyes flew open. “Clarke?”  
“Bell…me. What..” He watched her eyes move around the room slowly, his heart beating as fast as it had on their wedding day, the words he wanted to speak hard to get past the lump that was forming in his throat. “What happ…nd… Where…”  
“It’s okay, Princess. We were in a crash three days ago, and you’ve been in a coma since then.”   
“We… What? Why… Where’s Finn? And my mum?”  
He froze as he heard that name on her lips. It was a name he hadn’t heard in years, let alone from her. “Uh… Finn?”  
“Yes. Where’s Finn? Is he okay? Why isn’t he here?” She looked frantically around the room, and her hand slipped from his as the shock of what was happening made him weak.  _She wants Finn… She doesn’t remember us._  He felt a tear slip down his cheek as he finally called for a nurse and fell back into his chair.   
A few moments later the room was abuzz with activity as a nurse explained everything to Clarke, and they awaited her doctor’s arrival. He didn’t know the guy, but he was too overwhelmed to care. It wasn’t until Abby arrived and looked at him that he was finally able to speak. “She wants Finn.” He said in a desolate whisper, his tears preventing him from seeing the shocked look on Abby’s face as she looked back up at her daughter.   
“Mum? What’s going on? Why is Bellamy here?” He could hear the panic in her voice rising, and he knew he was only making the situation worse, so he started to wheel himself out the door as he heard Abby say, “oh honey, he’s your husband…” He was glad he didn’t hear the response. 

He could remember the first time she’d called him that, her  _husband_. The ceremony was over, the photos were taken, they’d had their first dance, said their toasts, listened to speeches, and drunk slightly too much champagne when it had happened. They were standing amongst their friends, dancing to an old tune from their college days when someone had tried to pull him away, but instead she’d grabbed the lapels of his jacket and said (slightly drunkenly), “no. He’s my husband. Go away, I want him to myself.” Then she’d dragged him off to some backroom somewhere as their friends whooped and whistled. The whole affair had been embarrassing, but definitely worth it, as just thinking about what had happened in that closet brought a blush to his cheeks.   
_Please, Clarke, come back to me._

Abby came down to his room later that evening. “Give it to me straight, Doc.”  
She sighed before she began, and Bellamy knew the news would not be good. “She has memory loss, Bellamy.”  
He gulped before he asked, “how bad?”  
“We can’t know if it’s temporary or not, but it seems as though she’s forgotten the last six years of her life.”  
“So she’s forgotten me. Our life together, our entire relationship.”  
Tears sprung to Abby’s eyes as she responded, “yes.”  
He tried to strengthen himself, brace himself for the answer as he questioned her. “So what do I do?”  
“You give her time, to adapt and to adjust. Maybe she’ll regain those memories, but we can’t rely on that. The brain is a complex organ, one we know very little about.”  
“Can I see her?”  
“She’s sleeping now, tomorrow. For now, you should get some rest. You’re not in the best shape yourself, you know.”  
He lay back down, and as she turned to leave he simply said, “thank you, Abby.”  
She looked back at him from the doorway, a sad smile on her face. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry it’s not better news.” She shut the door so softly behind her he could hardly hear it, and, alone once more, he broke down. The sobs wracked his body as he wondered whether having a wife who had forgotten him was better or worse than death.  _At least she’s alive_  he kept saying to himself.  _At least she’s alive._


	2. Chapter 2

When he was discharged and she wasn't, he was afraid that it was to be indicative of their new relationship. Now that she'd been awake a few days, they knew a little more, but she didn't. The last she could remember of him was a vague recollection of a party Finn had dragged her to.  _Finn._  
She couldn't understand why they'd broken up, why he wasn't there to greet her. And then there was Wells. "Where's Wells? Is he on his way?" She'd asked.   
The question brought him literal pain as he struggled to find the answer. "He... He's not coming, Clarke. He.. He died four years ago."  
He watched as her face went blank and she fought off an onslaught of tears. "He, he what? How?"  
"It... It's complicated. He was murdered."  
She lost the fight to hold back her tears and as they slipped down her cheeks, he reached for her hand, anxious to help her in someway, to relieve the pain. When she pulled her hand away from him he felt it as a physical blow. As if she'd taken that hand and sucker punched him in the gut. He couldn't take it, he couldn't do this anymore. As he strode out of her room, past the nurses with pitying looks, down the stairwell, he couldn't help but think back to the first time they'd been through this.

She'd given him a key to her loft a couple of months before he'd proposed, but this was the first time he'd ever had to use it. He bounded up the stairs, his whole being filled with concern as his mind replayed the tearful voicemail she'd left for him. "Bell... Please... It's... Please come." He didn't listen long enough to hear the sobs that came after, he was already picking up his jacket and running out the door with a quick "family emergency" excuse to the receptionist as he ran to her.   
He found her curled up in bed, her eyes red and her cheeks stained with the tears that were still flowing, and as she spotted him there, she'd reached out her arms and he had climbed onto the bed, wrapping his arms around her as she curled into him. Through heaving sobs, she managed to say the words that gave new meaning to what was happening, "Wells... he's dead." 

The tears he'd had in his eyes then were similar to the ones that were partially blinding him now. Thankfully the taxi driver didn't say anything as he handed him the money and whisked himself upstairs to their apartment. Even being there hurt. The walls, covered in artwork she'd either done herself or selectively chosen, brought a myriad of memories and emotions to the surface as he collapsed into 'his' chair. He hung his head in his hands as the tears finally fell and the chair began to rock.  _What am I going to do? What if she never remembers?_

When she'd first dragged him to view the apartment he'd hated it. It was bare, lifeless, and so run down that he couldn't imagine ever wanting to stay a night there, let alone buy the place and move in with his soon-to-be wife. But that was before he witnessed her enthusiasm for it, before she ran around describing, in detail, the plans she had for each of the rooms, the renovations and space they'd be able to afford by buying a place that was a little run down, but in an area they both loved. Then, in case he needed further convincing, she described in intimate detail her plans for  _him_ in each of these rooms, and he hadn't been able to say yes fast enough.   
Part of him regretted not taking the opportunity their honeymoon provided to take her on a grand adventure somewhere hot and sunny (somewhere she'd spend most of her time in a bikini), but those first few weeks they spent making their new home  _their new home_ had proved an adventure in itself. The days they spent painting, knocking down walls and erecting others, selecting furniture and finding homes for all the wedding gifts they'd received turned out to be the best way to start their marriage, and their new life together. 

He was brought back from his wander into the past by a soft knock on the door. Wiping his face and hoping like hell it wasn't the old lady from downstairs, he inched the door open, only to have it swung wide open by his sister, who immediately launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her head in his chest. "I came as soon as I could, Bell."  
"I know." He pushed the door shut as he rest his head on hers, relishing in the first moment of comfort he'd experienced since the accident. 

They were settled into the lounge with cups of coffee and the cake Octavia had brought him when she finally asked, "so, how are you, Bell?"  
She waited patiently for him to respond, sipping at her coffee as he collected himself and said, "physically, I'm healing, but emotionally... I'm not sure if I can handle this, O. She doesn't remember  _me_ , our entire life we've built together. None of it. Hell, last she remembers is her relationship with Finn. What am I supposed to do with that? So much has happened in the last six years and she doesn't remember any of it. I had to tell her Wells was murdered. As if helping her through the first round of grieving wasn't enough, I had to tell her again? Is that what our relationship will be like? Me correcting her memories? Breaking every piece of bad news she's received over the last six years to her, again?"  
"There's good news, too, Bellamy."  
"But if she doesn't remember me then what's the point?"  
"Do you love her?"  
He looked up at her with a shocked and confused expression on his face, "what kind of a question is that? Of course I love her."  
"Do you want to spend the rest of your life with her?"  
"Well, I did. I do, I don't know, O."  
"You either do, or you don't, Bellamy. You either fight or you surrender. Either way, you've got the perfect escape."  
"Escape?! You think that's what I want?! An  _escape?!_ As if I somehow  _wanted_ this to happen?!"  
"I know you didn't want this to happen, Bellamy, no one would. But it's true nonetheless. If you want out, you've got it."  
"I'm going to bed. The guest room's made up." He stalked out of the lounge and through to their room, collapsing onto the pile of pillows Clarke adorned their bed with, and fell into a restless sleep. 

His dreams were fragmented, filled with broken memories and the pictures of his imagination. First, it was their wedding day and he was watching her walk toward him, looking uncharacteristically graceful in the beautiful white gown he was sure he'd just paid through the nose for. Then, just as he'd said his vows, "to love and to cherish, in sickness and health, 'til death do us part." She'd looked up at him with confusion and whispered, "where's Finn?" Then his mind played another trick on him, but this time it was a dream he wished he was living. He walked through the hospital, dazed and confused until he reached her room, and found her sitting up, her smile widening as she saw him. "Bellamy!" Seconds later he was pulled from that dream as it dawned on him that this wasn't reality, that Clarke  _couldn't_ remember him. 

He awoke to the smell of coffee wafting from the kitchen, and found Octavia up and with a smile on her face as she cooked him the meal he used to cook for her on occasion; waffles with blueberries and cream. "Where did you get all this?" God knows  _he_  didn't have the ingredients in the house.  
"The kids get me up early, and try as I might I can never sleep in, so I went for a walk and found the market," she said as she pulled a waffle off the iron and onto a plate.   
"How are they?"  
"They're fine. Worried about you, actually, they wanted to come, but I didn't think you'd appreciate them being here at the moment, and I don't think they understand what Clarke's going through at the moment. They wrote you a card though, one for you and Clarke. I'll show them to you later."  
"Thanks. How's Lincoln coping?"  
"He's learning how difficult it is to look after twin boys as a single parent, I'll say that much." He grinned through a waffle at the thought of his brother in law trying to manage those rascals before Octavia continued, "can we go to the hospital this morning? If you're up to it, I'd like to see her."  
He washed the food down with the coffee as he mumbled, "of course."   
"So have you decided?"  
"Decided what?" He said through a mouthful of cream.   
"You know what. About Clarke."  
He mulled it over for a moment, pretending to read the paper that was in front of him.  _Sickness and health... Death to us part_. "Til death do us part..." he whispered.   
"Good. Because I don't want to have to say goodbye to my favourite sister in law."  
"She's your only-"  
"Shut up." She grinned as she joined him at the breakfast bar with her own plate piled high with waffles and blueberries, and they ate in companionable silence like the days of old. 

He lead her through the hospital with confidence. He couldn't forget the path to Clarke. He knocked on her door, saying, "I've got someone here to-"   
"Clarke!" His sister interrupted, pushing past him and rushing to her side.   
"Octavia?" She said as she opened her arms and buried her face in her shoulder, a tearful smile working its way to the foreground. Watching the two embrace brought him conflicting emotions. The better half of him was happy for the two of them. The sour side of him was ragingly jealous she remembered Octavia with such fondness and not him. The scene before him was so emotional it took him a minute to realise there was someone else in the room. "Raven! Hi, I didn't see you there. How are you?" He said with a greeting hug.  
"Better than you, that's for sure."  
"How much do you know?"  
"Enough. She's really confused, Bellamy. Her whole life has just been turned upside down."  
"I know, I-"  
Again, his sister interrupted him. "Raven! It's so good to see you, how are you? How's Kyle? Have you two set a date yet?" As Octavia pulled her toward the bed, Raven threw a sorrowful parting glance his way, and the three of them began one of their renowned girl conversations, the likes of which he hadn't seen in years. Usually Lincoln, Wick and he would disappear quietly and either find some beer or something sports related. On this occasion, he slipped out of the room unnoticed and made his way to the cafeteria, resolute in his new decision.  _Whatever she needs, I'll do it. I love her, I want the best for her. Whatever she needs._


	3. Chapter 3

"Bellamy!" He looked up from his table in the cafeteria to see Wick approaching, a stack of coffees balanced in his hands.  
"Wick, mate, how are you?" He stood up to greet him as Wick put the coffee down on the table and pulled him into quick embrace.  
"Forget about me, man, how are you?"  
"I'm... I'm dealing with it. You taking those up to the girls?"  
"Yeah, Raven wanted a latte and Clarke said she's tired of hospital food."  
"Ah. Did she.. Did she remember you?"  
"Nah." Wick said it with a sad smile, "Raven and I got together after the Finn debacle."  
"So did we," he said ruefully.  
"Hey, I'm sure she'll come 'round. You'll get through this."  
"Thanks. I wish I had your certainty."  
"If there was ever a couple who could make it through a car crash and subsequent amnesia, it's you two."  
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."  
"I'm serious, man. In any case, Raven and I were doing some reading up about it, and it's pretty uncommon for the effects of concussion based amnesia to last forever."  
"Really?"  
"Really, really. Anyway, we should get these up to the girls. Reckon they've had long enough to get the catch-ups out of their system?"  
"Wick, there's not enough time in the world." 

When they reached Clarke's room he let Wick enter first, shielding himself from his wife's reaction to his presence for as long as possible. As Wick took Clarke her food and Raven her coffee, he hung back, waiting for Octavia to come to him before handing her the iced mocha he'd got her. Her eyes lit up when she tasted it, and it brought a smile to his face to see it there.  
An awkward silence descended on the room as everyone found somewhere to sit and eat. Sitting in the corner, seeing Octavia with Clarke, and Raven on Wick’s lap, it felt so close to being right, it brought an ache to his chest to think of all the ways it was wrong. He stood to leave, thinking some space could be what she needed right then, a chance to feel familiar and good with her friends, rather than awkward and uncomfortable with the man she could hardly remember. “It was good to see you guys,” he directed at Raven and Wick, who both looked up at him with sad yet understanding eyes. “O, I can pick you up later if you want, just call me.” A lump formed in his throat as he turned to Clarke. “Clarke, I’ll uh… I’ll see you later, let me know if you…”  
 “Don’t.” Her voice was so soft he wasn’t sure he’d heard her properly.  
 “Sorry?”   
“Don’t go, please.” She looked up at him timidly, as if she was afraid of his response. _This is such a different Clarke._  
“Of course. Of course I’ll stay.” He made his way back to his seat, looking up to see both Octavia and Clarke smiling at him. Two very different smiles, but they both gave him hope. 

A short while later Raven and Wick announced their departure. They’d be back, they promised, but there were some things they needed to sort out and this way the nurses would stop giving them evil glances for having “too many people” in the room. He silently thanked Octavia when she asked them for a ride home, with the excuse that she’d like to Skype her babies before it got too late. Of course, she could’ve been going to do just that, but the little wink she threw his way told him otherwise.    
“Alone at last…” he grinned, plonking himself down in the chair next to her bed that Raven had just vacated.    
Clarke smiled as she responded, “that’s the Bellamy I remember. All wit and brazen charm.”  
 “That’s pretty accurate of the man I was then. We’ve come along way, you and I.”   
“So it would seem.” She let the sentence trail off before continuing in a more formal and abrupt manner. “I’ve been talking with Raven, and Mom, and I saw a therapist, too, and they all think I should go home.”   
He tried not to get his hopes up, or let his pleasure show as he asked, “to our apartment?”  
 She looked up at him with surprise, “we live in an apartment?”  
 “Yeah, you love it there.”  
 “Huh. I always imagined having a house in the suburbs.”   
“Complete with the white picket fence? Yeah, I bet you never imagined marrying “the sorority house playboy” either.”   
She blushed as she remembered the insults they’d traded back in the day. “You remember that?”   
“Hey, Princess, I’m not the one whose memory is in question here.”   
She conceded his point with a nod of the head. “Back to your original question, yes. Home with you… Is that okay?”   
He held her hand in his, leaning forward on the chair so he could look her intently in the eyes as he made his promise, “Clarke, whatever you need. I’m here for you."

A day later he was helping her across the threshold once more, his body tense as he watched her every move, ready to catch her if she fell, and nervous with anticipation as he awaited her reaction to the home she’d helped build.  
“Wow. And this is ours? Our home?”  
 “Yup. Paid the last of the mortgage off a year ago, did most of the renovating ourselves and you, of course, are responsible for all the art work you can see.”  
 She moved slowly through the room, taking it all in, her eyes resting on some things longer than others as she made her way through the house. He had to restrain the hope he could feel rising up inside himself as she did so, and he began to wonder if this would be the moment it would all come rushing back to her.    
“Where’s Octavia?” She asked as she sighted a picture of her, Lincoln and the twins hung on the wall.  
 “She said she’d be back later, give us some space for now.”   
“Are these her kids?”  
 “Yeah, Abe and Auggy keep ‘em pretty busy”  
 “Abe and Auggy…” She spoke the words softly, as if testing the taste of them. “It feels familiar, what’re they short for?”   
He smiled as he responded, “Abraham and Augustus, but as soon as you met them you thought they were too cute for that and gave them the nicknames.”   
“Well they are cute. They look like trouble though, how old are they?”   
“Well you’re not wrong. And they turned four a couple weeks ago.” He chuckled as he remembered the fiasco the birthday present dilemma had brought.  
 She looked at him with a curious smile on her face, “what?”  
 “We bought them bikes for their birthday, ‘cause they’d been begging us for ages, and Octavia wasn’t best pleased, to say the least. Especially when Abe fell over.”   
“Which one’s he?” She said, still gazing at the picture.  He moved so he was looking at it over her shoulder.  
“You know, I’m not entirely sure. I’m still not sure how O tells them apart, and I think Lincoln just guesses half the time.” Soon it wasn’t the photo he was looking at, and he had to pull himself away before he freaked her out. _She doesn’t know you as her husband._ As if pulled by a thread attached to him, she stood straight and looked at him with an open regard, her eyes pinching together as she appraised him. “You’re different than I remember.”   
“I should hope so.”   
“And you’re my husband.”  
 “Of three years.”  
 “So the question is, do I trust my past-self?” She was looking at his chest as she said it, not really talking to anyone but herself anymore. Then her hand raised to cup his cheek, and he leaned into the familiar comforting gesture, trying hard to keep his breathing steady. He felt his eyes shutter closed as he relived every moment she’d done this very thing, every time she’d followed it up with a kiss and her arms wrapped around him. Then, before he could bring himself back from these memories, he felt the light weight of her lips on his, and his eyes fluttered open in surprise before he had the chance to properly reciprocate. It’s not a dream. Clarke, for whatever reason, was standing on her tip toes and kissing him in the sweetest, most gentlest way possible. All this took a millisecond to process, then he was responding in kind, holding her up and to him with one hand at the small of her back and tilting her chin with the other, like he had so many other times.  She pulled away from him then, breathless as she panted, “I’ve always wanted to do that…” she looked up at him to see his confused look before explaining, “see what all the fuss was about, I mean. So which one is our room?”    
He stuttered his response, still floored by her sudden affection. “Uh… Down on the right, I’ll show you.” As he led her down to their room, he couldn’t help but think two things; one, even when she couldn’t remember him, she still found ways to surprise him. And two, maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've upped the rating because it's starting to feel a little more 'mature' than 'general' so I thought I'd up it to be on the safe side :)

As he cooked his famous lasagne, he found himself unable to resist asking, “do you remember anything? Is anything familiar to you?”  
She looked over the laptop she was attempting to navigate with a short smile that barely made it past the left corner of her mouth. “Nothing that I don’t remember from my residency.” She looked back at the computer as she added softly, “if I remember anything, you’ll be the first to know.” He nodded slowly as he delicately put the lasagne sheets in place, and a moment later Octavia burst through the door, “Honeys! I’m hoooome!” She sang, raising her hands in a showman’s salute, her hands filled with more bags than he’d have thought it possible for her to carry.  
“Jesus, O! How much did you buy today?!”   
“Enough.” She smiled, moving over to the table to drop her things and embrace Clarke. “How are you feeling?” She sat down next to her, leaning one arm casually against the table and resting her other on Clarke’s knee.  
“Tired, mostly. It’s overwhelming, you know I can imagine this life in such detail but I can’t to remember any of it.”  
“Aw Clarke, I can’t imagine it. You’ll be okay though, especially with Bellamy here looking after you! Hey, Bell! What are you cooking for us?!”  
“The lasagne’s just gone into the oven!” He yelled back at her, before walking around the corner with a bottle of wine and glasses in hand. “Anyone for a drink?”  
Octavia smiled sweetly up at him, “have I ever told you you’re my favourite big brother?”  
“Only once or twice. Clarke, would you like some?”  
“Yes, thank you.”

 

Hours later all that was left of the lasagne were the cold crumbs on their plates. Their bellies were filled with food and laughter as they sat around the table regaling their favourite stories. There was the first time Clarke had held Abe and jumped out of her skin when he burped. And the time Auggy had pushed his brother at the park outside the hospital while Bellamy was waiting for Clarke to join them, and he’d had to return the twins in “less than perfect condition” and suffer a worried mother’s bollocking. Or two Christmases ago when they’d gone to stay with O and Linc, and had the worst road trip experience possible on the snow-covered, traffic-laden roads. The tales Octavia had of their girls-night-outs, of their respective bachelorette parties, some of which was news to him. Finally though, the wine was gone, the yawns became more frequent, and Octavia wished them a good night with a kiss on the cheek and headed to bed. 

 

Clarke had a faraway look in her eye as her smile slowly faded and her thoughts turned inward. It was the clinking of the glass that brought her back to the present, and she stood to help Bellamy tidy up. “No, Clarke, sit down. I’ve got this.” He came back to the table to try and take the plates from her.  
“Let me help, Bell. It’s my house, too.”   
“Okay,” he said with a smile, releasing the plates and stepping aside so she could get to the kitchen.   
They worked companionably, side by side, as if this was the habit of years. She realised it probably was, but asked anyway. “Do we usually do this?”  
“No,” he chuckled as he handed her another plate to dry, “usually I do it. Well it depends on whose working, and when, but it’s usually me.”  
“Oh…”  
“I’m happy to start a new tradition though.” She opened a cupboard to put the plates away, and heard his quiet intake of breath as he asked, “how did you…”  
“Oh.” She looked back at him, a sheepish smile on her face, afraid that she’d gotten his hopes up. “It just seemed logical.”  
“Ah,” he shook his head and returned to his work, “of course.” They continued washing and drying for another minute before he added, “sorry.”  
“It’s fine. I, I can’t imagine what it must be like for you. To almost-not-quite lose your wife.” She looked up at him as he handed her a glass and saw the tears pooling in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Bell. I wish… I wish I knew how to bring it all back, make this better some how.” He blinked and turned his head away as a tear fell down his cheek, and Clarke felt something pang within her. It was as though a tight cord had snapped and she could explain nor contain the pain in her chest. It caused her to drop the glass back in the sink and reach out to him, “Bell,” she whispered softly as she brought her hand to his chin and tilted it back down to her. “It’s going to be okay,” she spoke directly to him, trying to force him to believe it as their eyes locked together. “We’ll be okay.” It wasn’t much longer before his lips came down to meet hers in a passionate frenzy she could only encourage, and she wondered how much of his kissing technique was due to years of learning what she liked, or whether he’d always been this _good_. His wet hands came to grip her side, and she felt the water soak through her shirt as he pulled her against him.   
She enjoyed the feeling of his hard body against hers for mere seconds before he moved away abruptly, taking a step back with heaving breathes as he set her away from himself. He leaned against the bench as he spoke hoarsely, “I’ll finish up here, you go on to bed.”  
She nodded slowly, trying to think of something more sensible than how god-damn attractive he looked when he was that flustered. “Okay.” She put the tea towel down next to him, and looked at him briefly as she said goodnight and tiptoed down the hall, her heart racing and her mind a flutter with thoughts and feelings, and thoughts about those feelings. 

 

She made her way around their room, finding that she could intuitively locate nearly everything she needed, before laying in bed, listening to the sounds of Bellamy in the kitchen. Their room was light and airy, and the high ceilings made it feel more spacious than it was. She loved everything about it, which pleased her for the obvious reasons, but also because it meant she couldn’t have lost everything about herself in that crash. After what felt like forever, her husband finally joined her in their room, but barely spared her a glance as he moved through the room to the ensuite, and back out again a few minutes later, his arms laden with blankets.   
“Bellamy? What are you doing?”  
“I, uh, I thought I’d sleep in the lounge. Give you some space.” He hardly looked at her as his voice rumbled, preferring to keep his eyes on the ground so he could avoid her gaze.  
“I don’t want space, Bellamy.” She spoke softly, cautiously as she tried to persuade him of her sincerity. “You’re my husband, Bellamy. Even if I can’t remember it, it’s still your house, your room and your bed, too. I want us to be as normal as possible, Bell, and I don’t want you sleeping on the couch.”  
“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I’m practically a stranger to you-“  
“Bellamy, I’m sure. Get into bed, Bell.” She said her words with authority, and lay back down to roll over as if that was the end of it, as if she were certain he would soon be joining her. She wasn’t, but her keen ears heard him go back into the ensuite, and a few moments after the lights went out, the door shut and she felt his weight on the other side of the bed.   
“Sweet dreams, Clarke.”   
“Sweet dreams, Bell.” She smiled at hearing his words, at repeating them back to him, at the feeling of domesticity that came with their speaking, and settled in to sleep. 

 

When her eyes opened again, she almost started to see a mess of black curls in front of her, but as everything clicked into place, she realised she’d moved in her sleep to wrap an arm around Bellamy, and curl herself behind him. She shut her eyes again and languished in the familiar and comforting feeling, certain that when the day began in earnest, those feelings would slip away. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

She was right, and it was one of the few times she truly resented it. The last month had been filled with tension as she tried to fit into a life she only half remembered, and felt the weight of her husband’s hope on her shoulders with every passing glance. 

 

All the swirling emotions that were twisting their way inside her gut came to the forefront late one night as they were drifting asleep. She’d become used to the physical contact, enjoyed it, even, the comforting weight of his body next to hers, his arms placed so gently around her as they settled in to sleep. This particular night, however, she couldn’t sleep. Just as she was thinking the root of the problem must have been that coffee she’d had after dinner, she heard a sleepy Bellamy whisper four little words into her ear that struck her to the bone. “I love you, Clarke.”  
The panic she felt at that moment had stopped her heart and lead her to this one; crying into the phone trying to explain how awful and desperately alone she felt. 

“I can’t take it any more, Mom. It’s too hard. It’s not that I don’t care about him, it’s not that I don’t like him, I do like him, Mom, so much.” She choked back a sob and wiped away a tear as she struggled to continue. “But that’s why I’ve got to do this. I don’t love him. And I don’t remember our lives together. It’s not fair… I can’t keep living this life with him, filling his head with hope when I might not ever regain those memories, or those feelings. He’s better off without me, Mom.”

 

His key had just turned in the lock, he’d just placed the groceries on the counter when he heard his wife crying through the wall. _Clarke…_ It was instinct that took him steps closer to her, and instinct that drove him back out into the cold night air as he heard her words playing over and over in his head. _I don’t love him… I can’t live this life… He’s better off without me…_ He wandered the streets, unsure of where he was going or where he was headed but certain that it was far from home. 

 

She hung up the phone, now sure of her course of action. She’d tell him tonight. Break it to him easy, explain her reasons to him, and move in with her Mom. It was best for both of them. It was as she went to pack her bags that she spotted the groceries on the bench, and almost dropped the phone she was holding. “Bellamy?” She called his name and heard no response. “Bellamy?” She searched the house and found nothing. _He heard…_ The stunning realisation of the conversation he must’ve overheard started her tears once more, and it was through bleary eyes that she packed her belongings, before collapsing on their bed and falling into a fitful rest. 

 

The slamming door startled her awake, a glance at the clock across the bed told her it was almost 4am, and the excessive noise travelling her way told her Bellamy was drunk. She listened to him crash down the hallway, knocking a table along the way, then saw him appear at the doorway, his eyes rimmed with red and brown paper bag disguising his drink.   
“Oh, so you’re still here then,” he said as he carelessly swaggered into the room.  
“Of course I’m still here. Where have you been, Bellamy? It’s freezing outside.”  
“What do you care? I’m just the husband you don’t know. Or love,” he added, bitterly.  
She sat up on the bed, wishing she could soften this blow. “Of course I care, Bellamy. I do, I just…”  
“You just don’t love me.” He collapsed in the love seat in the corner, taking another swig of his drink.  
“Bellamy, I… It’s not working. I don’t remember anything, and it’s been a month! Don’t you know I wish I could change that? That I would remember everything is all I want! But I can’t keep doing this. Not to you, and not to me. It’s not fair.”  
“But you’re my wife, Clarke. Doesn’t that mean anything? Better or worse? Nothing?”  
“I don’t remember making those vows!” She said it with a level of exasperation that shut him up for a moment, and left him in a stunned stupor. “Your wife died in that car crash. I’m just the stranger who woke up in her place.” Deciding she couldn’t wait any longer, she picked up her bags and moved to the door, speaking to him over her shoulder. “I’m moving to my mother’s place. We can sort out the rest of it later. Goodbye, Bellamy.” She felt a tightness in her chest as she walked the length of the hallway and heard his quiet sobs from their, or rather, his room, but she ignored it, placing her key on the bench as she walked out of his life forever. 

 

He spent the next few days trying to drown her voice in vodka. Then whiskey. Then whatever he could find. When all he had left was the wine they’d bought the year of their wedding, he broke down and didn’t get up until his pounding headache demanded pain relief. 

Once he’d located and charged his phone he found several missed calls from Octavia, and a couple from Wick, Raven and Lincoln. There was nothing from Clarke, though he masochistically wished there was. For all he’d been trying to forget what she’d said, he still wanted to hear from her, hear _her_. Hear her voice, see her smile, _anything_.  
He couldn’t do this. Not this. He couldn’t live without her; pretend she was dead like she’d suggested. It was something they’d both said jokingly in what he was starting to think of as their Before-Life, but their conversation had taken a more serious turn as they struggled to contemplate life without one another. 

 

It was a lazy day early on in their marriage: neither one of them had left the bed yet, both content to enjoy each other and their company as newlyweds so often are. She had been laying in his arms, before she’d rolled over, looked down at him and asked, “so, husband of mine, imagine this. We’re old and grey, we’re living in a retirement village, zooming around on mobility scooters when I die and you’re left alone. You’re finally free of me, what do you do?” She posed the question with a sly grin on her face, and bent down to kiss his bare chest as she awaited his answer.  
“Well, the answer’s obvious. I go lay down on your grave and wait to join you.”  
“Bellamy, be serious,” she said with a gentle nudge.  
“Oh, if we’re being serious then I guess I go find the richest, hottest lady in the village and seduce her.” His reply earned him a playful slap to the chest before she rolled over and lay her head in the crook of his arm.  
“I don’t think I’d lay down and die, probably a combination of the two. Seduce a third party to help with the euthanasia and end up six feet in the ground next to you.”  
The thought sent a chill through his body and he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her. “What could I have done wrong so early on in this marriage that you’re already considering death?” He pondered aloud.  
She laughed in response, and reached up to kiss him. “You… have made me so happy… that I can’t fathom a life without you, Bellamy Blake.” She spoke between kisses, running her hands over his chest and the ridges of his stomach as she did so, until the conversation was far from her mind and her breathe came heavily. He pulled away though, and held her slightly apart from him.  
“I feel the same, Clarke, but I want you to have a life without me, okay? If something were to happen… I’d hate to think of you wasting away.”  
She sighed and rolled away from him, “you wouldn’t be thinking though, would you?”  
“Ha ha. You know what I mean.”  
“Would you, Bellamy? If I died, do you think you could do it?”  
He tried to open his mouth and lie to her, convince her that he wouldn’t spend his days in limbo, waiting to join her, if only for the sake of the argument,but he couldn’t do it, and his mouth snapped shut.  
“I thought not. Till death do us part.”  
“And in death rejoined.”

 

It was a sombre discussion that seemed more at place here, in his deep well of misery and depression than it did there, in their happy honeymoon bubble of bliss. It was these thoughts that roused him though, that set him back on the path to her. She may not remember him, but she was still the girl he fell in love with, and he was the better man that her love had created. If he could make her fall in love with him once, he could certainly do it again. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a little bit shorter, guys! I've been busy :/


	6. Chapter 6

He tried to visit her a few days later. The whole drive out to her mother’s place was spent anxiously building up the courage to face both of them, trying to ignore the nerves that told him he was a liability to anyone on the road around him, and going over what he might say to Clarke if she did see him.  
He still hadn’t worked it out when he parked across the road from the looming perfection that was Clarke’s childhood home. It didn’t look a bit different from the last time he’d seen it. The lawns were perfectly watered, mown, and trimmed, the shrubbery that lined the stone path leading to the doorway was immaculate, and the cars sitting in the driveway were flashy European ones. Everything about the place brought every feeling of inadequacy he’d ever had racing to the forefront of his mind, and it took him a moment to gather his wits about him and swallow them down. He was here for a reason.  
He wasn’t even out of his truck when he saw Abby coming towards him, her arms motioning for him to stay where he was. “What are you doing here, Bellamy?”  
“I came to see her.”  
“Don’t you understand that she doesn’t want to see you?” Her arms were folded across her chest, but her words were quiet and he got the impression she cared, she simply cared more about her daughter.  
“I know that but if I could just-”  
“No, Bellamy. She needs a clean break if she’s going to start over.”  
“Start over? You mean divorce.”  
“Yes, Bellamy. Wasn’t that clear to you when she left?”  
If he was being honest, not a lot was clear to him from that night, beside the fact that she did leave. He was so focused on his mother-in-law that he didn’t notice Clarke sneak up from behind the garage until she called for her mom to stand down, and took her place in front of him.  
“What are you doing here, Bellamy?” Her voice was filled with tantalising concern, and the mask she put up cracked as she took the sight of him in. He wasn’t the self-assured, cocky bastard she remembered from their college days. Nor was he the hopeful man she’d lived with for the past month. This was a man broken by circumstance, torn apart by his emotions and left to pick up the remnants of their life by himself.  
“I came to see you, Clarke. I…” He took a deep breathe to compose himself before he continued. “I thought that maybe we could talk. A no-pressure situation. We could just go somewhere, and get coffee. See if we can be friends… I’m not ready to lose you completely, Clarke. You’re not dead. But you are different. I accept that. Friendship, that’s all I ask.”  
He could see her reluctance, and he was deeply afraid that she would say no, but her guilt and the promise of friendship must have gotten to her, and she agreed.  
He couldn’t help the smile that broke out over his face as he heard that one little word slip from her lips. “Great! Tomorrow afternoon? I know this great little place I think you’ll love. I’ll pick you up at 3?”  
She simply inclined her head, giving him a small smile as he got back into his truck with lifted spirits. He watched her as she walked back inside without a second glance, soaking up every possible second of her, then turned the key in the ignition as she entered the house. Had he stayed but two seconds longer, he’d have seen her pause in the doorway, her eyes swimming with tears as she gazed after him with a mixture of sorrow and longing, before softly closing the door behind her. 

 

He dressed himself carefully, choosing clothes he knew Clarke had liked, in the hopes that her tastes hadn’t changed. In the end it was the jeans that had always earned him a slap on the ass, the boots she’d bought for him one year, a tight white t-shirt she’d _strongly_ suggested he buy, and the plaid shirt he’d had forever and seemed to always go between their two wardrobes. 

 

As he drove to her place he debated buying her flowers, before deciding that no, he didn’t want to scare her off before he’d even got her there. It wasn’t a date. It was a… friend-date. Something he would do with Raven or Octavia, the latter of whom he’d actually spoken to that morning, in an attempt to get an outsider’s unbiased opinion. While her opinion wasn’t exactly unbiased, he valued her advice, which had essentially been to _go slow._

 

Clarke’s house was even more daunting close up, and standing there, ringing the doorbell, waiting for Clarke to show up reminded him of the first time he’d been there. 

 

It was the Thanksgiving before he’d proposed, and she’d invited him to her family’s dinner. He was incredibly nervous, and seeing her grand house had only cemented that feeling within him. He thanked his lucky stars that Wells would be there to support the two of them: he had the feeling that her mother mightn’t approve, which likely meant that Kane and Jaha wouldn’t be either. He was the outsider here, with only Clarke and Wells to bridge the gap.   
As soon as the door opened and he laid eyes on her though, he knew they’d pull through, together. Her hair was uncharacteristically tidy, pulled up and tied at the top of her head, her lips were the kind of red that made him want to kiss her, but afraid to create a mess, the tight-fitting formal dress she wore made his heart skip a beat, but mostly it was her eyes, glowing with happiness and anticipation that gave him hope.  
He’d taken flowers that time, and awkwardly tried to hug her while they were still in his hand, brushing her hair out of place as he did so. “Clarke, you look _amazing_.”  
“Why thank you, Mr. Blake. I almost didn’t recognise you, looking as dapper as you are.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek before taking a breath, giving him a heartening smile and leading him to the dining area to introduce him.  
It was one of the more embarrassing moments of his life when the Mayor of their city pointed out the red lipstick on his cheek and he felt as if the whole table was watching as Clarke wiped it off with her napkin.  
Though it had been a pleasant evening, and a wonderful meal, he breathed a sigh of relief when it was over, and he and Clarke were finally alone. It had been an entire week since they’d seen each other last, and they were far too in love to bear the separation easily.  
It was as she’d pushed him into her room, a wide smile on her face as she relieved him of his suit that he got the impression that now they’d passed the obstacle of her family, she was in the same place as him. She was in it for the long haul. 

 

He didn’t have to wait long before Clarke was pulling open the door and yelling her goodbye that echoed throughout the house. Aside from a few pleasantries, the drive to the seaside cafe was largely silent. Once they’d been seated and ordered, however, conversation seemed to flow more naturally. They avoided the big topics, the ones that impacted lives, but she told him how she was focussing on her art and had been encouraged to use it as a means of therapy. Her position at the hospital had been filled; she’d been gone a while and was likely to stay that way as they assessed her skills and waited for her to recover, but she was content with that. She felt she needed the time to make a full recovery.  
As Clarke had no recollection of him beyond their last month together and his sleazy ways of college, he had to explain everything to her. He was an academic, simply put. He’d got his PhD shortly after re-meeting her, and since then had done his fair share of lecturing, tutoring, and publishing. His university had been very understanding about what he’d been through, but it was about time he start working in earnest again, and he was to start again the following week. It would be a couple weeks before he had any students to tutor again, but he was fine with that, so long as the bills were still being paid.  
“So why did you choose this place?”  
“Don’t you like it?”  
“No, no, I do,” she said rather quickly, “I just like it so much I’m slightly suspicious… You haven’t been reading my diary have you?” She smiled over her cup of coffee at him with a cheeky grin so comical he couldn’t help but laugh aloud.  
“No, but I’m going to remember that you keep one. Simply put, I’d heard good things about it, and I know you love the sea, so it seemed like the perfect place to try and enter your good graces once more.”  
“What if I don’t like the sea anymore? Did you think about that?”  
“Clarke, you’ve been a regular water-baby since the moment I met you, and that’s including college. It’s practically genetic with you. I’d be very surprised if you’d changed that much.”  
She smiled as she told him he was right. “I love the sea. Even on less than calm days like today. It just proves it’s it’s own force, you know? It has a will and mind of its own and every time I see it I can’t help but think of its beauty, even when it’s destructive.”  
As she gazed out over the ocean he couldn’t help but stare at her and think the same words applied to her. She was a marvel, and astounded him with her ability to soldier on when faced with seemingly insurmountable odds. “Have you ever been out on the water?”  
She turned back to him, her smile still planted on her face as she spoke. “Not since I was a child…” She trailed off as the thought occurred to her that she could have recently, “…unless I have in the last six years?”  
“Not so far as I am aware. We kept telling ourselves that we’d do it one year, take some time off and rent a place by the sea, but between the hospital and family, we didn’t quite make it.”  
“If only we’d known,” she said softly, turning back to the sea and floating away  from him as her thoughts took her somewhere else.  
“If only,” he agreed, whispering as he stared back down at his plate. He took a moment to gather himself before looking back up to her; this was no time for tears. “Hey, let me tell you about the time you convinced me to go skinny dipping…”

 

They were still laughing as they pulled up outside her house, only now the sun had almost set and he knew it was time to say goodbye. Before he could say a word she turned to him and bet him to the punch. “I had a really nice time today, Bellamy. Thank you.”  
He could tell her words were absolutely sincere and it made him smile. “You’re welcome, Clarke. Any time. Let me walk you to the door.” He jumped out of the truck and ran around to help her out before following her to the doorstep.  
Just as they reached the landing, the door flew open and Abby appeared. “Clarke, honey, you’re home! Hello, Bellamy.” She spoke to him in a frosty tone that quite frankly, he didn’t think he deserved. He thought they were passed all that. “Clarke, come inside, I’ve got a surprise waiting for you.”  
“Just give us a minute, Mom.” Abby turned and left, but not before glaring at him and making sure to leave the door open. “I’m sorry about her.”  
“Don’t be, it’s not your fault.”  
“Hey, maybe we can do this again some time?”  
“I’d love to, we could-”  
“Clarke!” An almost forgotten voice reached out from within the house and interrupted their conversation.  
“Finn!” He watched in horror as he was all but forgotten in her excitement to see the one man he truly abhorred. She ran to him, throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace and happily chatting. He was a millisecond away from turning on his heel and not looking back when he heard his name and Clarke dragged Finn over to meet him. “Finn, you remember Bellamy, right?”  
“I do, always a pleasure, Blake.” He held out his hand for Bellamy to shake with a tight, fake-ass smile on his face.  
“Likewise, Collins.” He gripped his hand as tightly as he could without it being clear to Clarke that they were currently engaged in a pissing contest, and he was winning. They held the other’s hand for a beat too long though, and Clarke looked awkwardly between them before they let go and planted people-pleasing smiles on their faces.  
“Clarke, I think your mother wanted us in for dinner soon.”  
“Oh, Bellamy, would you like to join us? Mom’s an amazing cook.”  
“I know she is, but I doubt she’s made enough for four. I’ll see you some other time. Thank you for a great day, Clarke. I hope we can repeat it some time.” He held her hand and pulled her a little bit closer, leaning in to lightly kiss her cheek as his hand grazed her arm, before he turned and marched quickly back to his car. 

 

Clarke sent Finn on through to the living area, where her mom was no doubt laying in wait, and watched as Bellamy stalked off to his car. With the door mostly closed, she was sure he couldn’t see her watching him as he threw open his car door and jumped into the truck, slapping his hand against the wheel before taking off. His behaviour struck her as odd.  
Here was Finn, the man she could remember loving, and Bellamy, the man she knew she must’ve loved in order to marry, and yet, the two seemed to be unable to stand one another. Surely if she was capable of loving each of them, they mustn’t be dissimilar. And yet…  
She’d spent the last month getting to know Bellamy, and it seemed out of character for him to behave thus. Granted, he’d been pretty un-gentleman-like the night she’d left, but that was a high stress situation. His wife was leaving him, for christ’s sake. For him to behave similarly upon seeing Finn… Was that also a high stress situation? And if so, why? Surely not just for her sake.  
Her mother called her, disrupting her line of thought, but leaving her with the impression that there was a story she’d forgotten that would explain the tension experienced tonight. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments and feedback! It means a lot and keeps me motivated! :)

Somehow he resisted every urge that told him to go to a bar and pick a fight, so he went to his brother in law’s gym instead. It was a long drive, but he was still seething as he broke his way in and started letting his frustrations out on the bag.  
He didn’t know how long he’d been there, but his knuckles were red and numb when he heard Lincoln’s voice behind him. “Bellamy! What are you doing here?” He merely grit his teeth and continued hitting the bag until he was pulled away from it. “Bellamy, what are you doing, what’s wrong? You broke my door down and triggered the alarm. You could’ve just called for a key, man.”  
Lincoln’s question brought his rage bubbling back up to the surface as he threw one final punch at the bag and simply said Finn’s name.  
“Collins? What about him?”  
“Abby invited him over for dinner with her and Clarke. I just happened to be dropping Clarke off at the time.”  
“Why would she-”  
“I dunno, Linc. It’s like she’s trying to recreate the past, but without me.”  
“Recreate? Doesn’t she know what Finn did?”  
“I don’t think Clarke ever told her, and as much as I’d have liked to have thrown that in her face, I was never that much of a dick.”  
There was a long pause before Lincoln invited him to stay for a couple days. “It could be good for you, and the twins would love to see you. Who knows, maybe you could even babysit for a night or two…” He trailed off and looked at him with a hesitant look of mischief in his eye.  
He smiled and threw a punch that ended with him in a headlock saying “alright, alright!” Then as Lincoln let him back up he added, “it’d be nice to have a niece, after all.”  
His face blanched at the thought. “Maybe in twenty years when the twins have calmed down a bit.” He laughed, “come on, let’s go. Octavia will be worried. First though, you’re going to help me fix that door.”

 

Dinner was easy. The conversation flowed, her mother beamed to see the two of them together, and Finn was the perfect exemplar of a gentleman. She knew why her mother had invited him over, at the very least she was hoping she wouldn’t fret over Bellamy for an evening, at best she was hoping she’d fall in love with Finn again.   
It would be so simple; secure a divorce from Bellamy, start anew with Finn, but something wasn’t sitting quite right, and she couldn't tell what it was.  
She thought maybe it had something to do with the dream she’d had a couple nights ago, in which she and Finn had been walking down a street together while a girl she didn’t know stared daggers at her. She’d tried to ignore it, as she had all the other fragmented dreams she’d had, but after last night, it was difficult. 

No one was home and there was nothing to do at her mom’s place, so she escaped the house of boredom and ended up wandering through a park. It was so peaceful here, and with the floating sound of children playing on the playground, she felt a sense of joy, even if it was secondhand. It reminded her of her childhood, going to a park with her parents and the Jahas, getting lost with Wells and told off by their mothers when they were found, covered in mud with twigs in their hair and no idea of the stress they’d caused.  
It was when she saw the kids playing that she had to sit down and put her head between her knees. In her mind’s eye she was seeing Auggie and Abe run around in circles, their big uncle pretending to be a monster and chase them. Then he was turning to smile over at her and she could feel her heart melt as he created the most warm feeling of love rise within her, and the thought “you’d be a great dad” ran through her mind.  
Overwhelmed, she stayed seated on the bench questioning this apparent memory, wishing she could verify its truth, until a text from Finn interrupted her. He wanted to know if she’d like to get coffee, and she wasn’t sure. There was so much she didn’t know about her life, and that hesitancy caused her to leave his text unanswered as she began a slow walk home.  
As fate would have it, it was only a moment later that her phone rang and Raven was on the other end.  
“Clarke! A little bird tells me you saw Finn last night.”  
“Yeah, Mom invited him over, it was quite nice actually.”  
“Oh, I’m sure it was; Finn’s always been charming. Clarke, I hate to have to tell you this, _again_ , but someone has to and it shouldn’t be Bellamy.”  
“Tell me what?”  
“The reason you and Finn broke up, about six years ago. He was cheating on you. On both of us. For years.”  
Her eyebrows moved skywards almost involuntarily as she realised all the implications of this. “But how? He… my mom? Did she know?”  
“I don’t think you told her, Clarke. Before you and I found out about each other, we’d been engaged for a bit over two years and he had you convinced he was about to pop the question.”  
“I can’t believe he… Why?”  
“Who knows. What matters is that we both moved on, and he wasn’t in our lives anymore.”  
“Is that why he and Bellamy don’t seem to get on?”  
“Something like that. I think something else happened that cemented their hatred, but Bellamy never told me what.” There was a pause before she added, “you should know, when I found out about Finn, Bellamy and I slept together. Just once, and I initiated it, but I thought you should know. It’s pretty common knowledge amongst our friends, I didn’t want anything to surprise you.”  
She knew she should care, and while the admission surprised her, it did little else other than prove even further than she and Bellamy just weren’t meant to be together anymore. Surely any other woman would feel threatened, or at least somewhat jealous to find out that one of her best friends had had sex with her husband. “Thanks, Raven. I appreciate it.”  
“Any time, Clarke. Just, remember that Finn’s no longer our friend for a good reason, okay? Even once you and Bellamy were engaged he’d come sniffing around in an attempt to get you to change your mind. Just be careful.”  
“Always.”  
“And remember you can call me if you need verification on anything.”  
“Will do. Before you go, do you think you could tell me the full story?  
“Oh, of course! When Finn moved to college we were still together, only he seemed to think that only counted when we were in the same place, and he started dating you. It went on for years before one of my high school friends saw you together one day, and let me know. I found out who you were, came to confront you but you were just as clueless as I was, and Bellamy was fairly angry that I’d just barged in and accused you of being a cheater but also that your boyfriend could do that to you. Bell was in **_denial_** about his feelings for you by the way. Anyway, bad situation became worse when Finn showed up, received a well-deserved bollocking from the two of us, immediately begged for your forgiveness, and was thrown out by Bellamy. And that, my dear, was the start of a _beautiful_ friendship. Incidentally that was also the night we slept together, for the first and last time. He didn’t want me to go home by himself and you wanted to be alone. It took me a little while to work out his feelings for you, otherwise I’d have just picked up some guy from a bar.”  
“You don’t have to explain, it’s fine.”  
“I’m just telling you what we’ve already spoken about, seems unfair to only tell you part of it now.”  
“Thanks.”  
“No problemo. I’ve got to go now; Wick’s calling, but we’ll talk later! Love ya!”  
She began to respond but the call was already disconnected, and her mind raced as she realised how fond she was of someone she’d known for a few weeks. 

 

She’d sent Finn a text minutes after, simply saying that she didn’t want to see him again or make her life more complicated, and now, hours later, she still hadn’t gotten a reply. She could only assume this meant he’d accepted it. Either way, it didn’t matter.   
She heard her mother walk into the room and ask, “so Clarke, have you heard from Finn today?”  
“Yes actually.”  
“And…,” her mother prompted.  
“And he asked me if I wanted to grab coffee tomorrow,” she felt as though she could literally see her mother’s hopes rise before she added, “and I said I don’t want to see him again.”  
“But why, Clarke? He’s such a good boy. He’s one of the most eligible bachelors in the state! I’ve heard chatter that he could be a congressman one of these days! I never did understand why you broke up with him.”  
_So there we have it,_ Clarke thought. _The real reason you invited him over. Politics. Esteem. Reputation._ Listening to her mom praise the guy had worked her up a little bit, and she burst out,“because he’s a cheater, Mom! The whole time your golden boy was dating me, he had a high school sweetheart waiting for him in his home town. I wouldn’t trust that guy further than I could throw him.”  
“He, he what? He was talking to me about marrying you! I can’t believe he would do something so deceitful, so manipulative.”  
“Well he is in politics, Mom. Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. Raven was fooled for years, too.”  
“Raven…” She watched as the cogs ticked over in her mother’s head and she quickly looked up at her as she put two and two together. “You mean Raven was the other woman?”  
“I think technically I was the other woman…”  
“Oh honey, I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”  
“It’s okay, mom, really. Don’t get so worked up about it. It’s all ancient history now anyway. Just believe me when I say I don’t want to see him again, okay?”  
“Of course, Clarke.” She reached across the bench to take her hands, “you know I only want the best for you, right?”  
“I know, Mom.”  
She held her arms open wide and moved around the bench to hold her close. “I love you, Clarke, so much.”  
“I know, I love you, too, Mom.” As they stayed like that for a moment longer, Clarke couldn't help but wonder, did her Mom want _what_ was best for her, or _the_ best for her? 

 

It was a thought that had stuck with her all night, and now she was laying in bed thinking of all the things she’d been forced to do in the name of appearances for all those years. She’d started ballet at age 4, the piano a year later, and the violin when she was 8. She’d been expected to do well in everything; literature, history, social sciences, physics, chemistry, calculus, biology, and languages. She’d enjoyed French, but Spanish had been much easier, because so many people she met could speak it with her, and helped her understand when she’d said something wrong. Art was her escape from it all, it was the one thing that couldn’t be graded or marked, and therefore carried no pressure with it. It struck her that there wasn’t any of her work adorning this house like there was in her Bellamy House.  
_Maybe that’s why this feels less like home. Or maybe because it’s missing Dad._ She rolled over and felt a tear fall onto the pillow as she recalled the day she’d gotten home from school and found her mom in tears on the couch. The news of the accident had completely wiped her out. Her dad, so youthful, so funny, so caring… dead. She was in shock as she went up to her room and unpacked her bag, like she would any other day. It wasn’t until she’d glanced up at her easel and remembered his encouraging words of support that she’d broken down.  
The next week had been a nightmare of fielding calls of sympathy and wanting to throw something. Either at a wall or her mother. Her mom had told her in no uncertain terms that she had one week to grieve as she wanted, then they had to go back to work and school, and get on with their lives. One week to get over her _father’s_ **death**. She hated her for it, especially when she had to play the part of dutiful daughter for her mother’s and Jaha’s influential friends. Wells had been there though, and his presence had been a comfort. He understood her frustration with her mother all too well, and helped her understand that her mom had just lost the man she thought she’d spend the rest of her life with. She was due some compassion.  
It was with these memories plaguing her mind that she fell into a restless sleep, and dreamed. 

She was standing in front of her father’s grave with Wells, as both of them cried and tried to comfort one another when suddenly Wells was being pulled from her side, far off into the distance. She ran after him, but he got further and further away until all she could see was a speck in the distance. When she did catch up, it was Wells’ grave she was looking at. She fell to her knees in tears, and felt a hand on her shoulder as someone knelt down beside her. “Bellamy…” She turned to him and cried on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her.  

She woke up and stared at the ceiling as the feelings of her dream washed over her. Her grief for her dad and Wells felt so fresh, but so did the comfort dream-Bellamy had provided. And where did that leave her? If her dreams were based on reality then maybe she was experiencing a memory, and that had really happened. If not, she was having strange dreams about her estranged-husband comforting her in times of need.   
This wasn’t the first dream she’d had involving Bellamy. There had been others, mere fragments of the life she was starting to puzzle together, but it wasn’t until yesterday in the park that she thought they could be real.  
In her dreams she and Bellamy had argued cats vs. dogs, she’d collapsed into fits of laughter as Bellamy interrupted her painting by posing as a still-life model, they’d fought over holiday plans and her mother, and they’d kissed and made-up. Put together, they were starting to paint the picture of a life, but how could she be sure they were real? They were _dreams_ for christ’s sake, and anything could happen within a dream.  
As she got out of bed to start her day she found herself with a purpose, a feeling she hadn't experienced since waking up from the coma. She would find out about the dreams, and if she was lucky, she'd find the key to her past at the same time.  

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/kudos/reviews give me the strength to carry on :)


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